Hiding Out At The Circle C

by Jill Shalvis

  "Nellie, could you give Haley and me a minute?" Cam sent Nellie a special sister-to-brother look, communicating without a word.

  Nellie locked Haley in a quick bear hug. She repeated the motion with Cam, whispering something in his ear that had him nodding his head solemnly.

  "Thanks, honey," he said to her, leading her to the kitchen door with an arm around her waist. "Now go rest. And stop worrying about this or Jas will have my hide."

  He waited until they were alone before turning back to Haley. His gaze pinned her to the spot. "Nellie was drilling you."

  "Kindly, but yes." Haley had never felt so … sick. She'd destroyed any chance she would have had with the most wonderful man on earth. "I know you're upset with me."

  "Do you?"

  "Yes. And I completely understand. I can leave, but I'd like to wait until—"

  He let out a disbelieving laugh. "You understand nothing, Haley. Absolutely nothing, if you can calmly discuss my wanting you to leave."

  "You … don't want me to go?"

  A muscle worked in his cheek and into his eyes came the warm light she'd wanted so badly to see. "God, no." He came toward her, but stopped short of touching her.

  "What do you want?"

  He let out a low laugh. "A lot of things. To know you, for one."

  "You know me."

  He just looked at her, then opened the leather jacket he wore. From the inside pocket he took out two things she recognized immediately. He held up the tiny notebook and the pocket phone book she always kept in her purse.

  "I found these under my desk. I'm guessing they came from your purse. The funny thing is," he said in a deceptively calm voice, "I consider myself a smart man. Not terribly motivated, I admit, but that's another story." He flipped through her notebook. "These notes might have been written in Greek for all I understand. Lots of geology talk. Magnitudes, intensity, seismic waves, that sort of thing. I'm guessing they have something to do with South America."

  "Yes," she said harshly. "Thanks to those notes, people's lives have been destroyed. Thanks to me, there's been earthquakes, a bomb set off, and uranium found, then lost because of greed." She gulped hard. "Thanks to what's in those notes, my life has been turned upside down and I'm a wanted woman, on the run from God-knows-whom and the law."

  Cam tilted his head and studied her thoughtfully. "Feel better?"

  She did. Letting it all out felt a whole lot better, but hell if she'd admit it when she was so keyed up, that if he so much as touched her, she'd explode. "That's my phone book, too," she snapped. "Hope you enjoyed your little sneak peek into my life, Cameron." She reached for it, a little surprised when he gave it right over.

  "I didn't enjoy anything," he said quietly, his voice gentle and incredibly apologetic. "I just was hoping you'd tell me why you don't have any non-geology numbers listed in there except for an Isabella Whitfield in Manhattan. Is she a relative?"

  "She's my mother, though I have no idea if that's the current address for her. We … sort of lost touch." Another lie. Not told to avoid danger this time, but for self-preservation. How could she admit her mother didn't want anything to do with the nerd kid she'd never understood? "There's no one else in there because, as I told you, I don't have anyone else."

  "You have me," he said, startling her by taking her shoulders. His eyes held so much, her own grew wet. "You keep forgetting that."

  "No, I don't forget. I just…" Just what? What would keep him safe? "I just don't want you."

  "Really?" He pulled her to him, his eyes dark and intent. She braced herself, but his kiss was tenderly devastating, and she had no defenses against it. She moaned and held him close, trying to memorize each and every sensation, to keep it all in her heart forever.

  Cam pulled his head back a fraction. "Don't want me, huh?"

  She was wrapped around him like cellophane on candy. She flushed.

  "It's all coming back to haunt you, isn't it?" he asked roughly, giving her a little shake. "Lies have a nasty habit of doing that, you know. I warned you." He inhaled deeply as if it hurt to breathe. "I told you, I can't do this anymore, and I meant it." He sank his fingers into her hair, forcing her to look into his terribly hurt eyes. "But you can't stop, can you? You can't stop lying. Not even to yourself."

  Anger surged, hurt seeped deep. She pushed him away. "Dammit, I'm not Lorraine! I'm not lying to you about getting my nails done, or spending too much money on clothes! This is life and death and… God. I don't want to witness yours." She shoved at him again, the tears she didn't want to acknowledge threatening to spill. "You have a terrible habit of crowding me, Cameron, I keep telling you that." She whirled from him, then leaned over the table on stiff arms.

  He came up behind her—she could feel him, though he didn't make a sound. She closed her eyes against the deep, yearning ache he invariably caused.

  "I'm not going to die." His voice, by her ear, was gravelly with emotion. "And neither are you. I won't let it happen. But, Haley, you've got to trust me—at least with how you feel for me. You're killing me, here."

  She felt wretchedly ashamed now. In his voice was something she'd always wanted, something she could have, if she would only reach for it. But she couldn't. He couldn't know what it did to her heart, to be offered something she'd wanted her entire life—trust—and then to have to turn it away. "I'm going to leave, Cam."

  He dropped her notebook on the table in front of her. It clamored noisily in the silent kitchen. "I wish you could believe in me. I want that more than you could know. But even more than that, I want your safety. I don't want anything to happen to you, Haley. You want me to stop crowding you. Fine. I will. But don't leave."

  She felt his fingers brush over the back of her neck in a soft, loving caress. She held herself rigid, knowing if he so much as touched her again, she'd give in and fly into his arms.

  "Don't go," he whispered. Without another word, he left the kitchen.

  She waited until the door shut before sinking into the nearest chair, dropping her head into her arms. The tears she'd been holding back fell freely, but it didn't matter.

  Nothing mattered.

  She'd done this to herself. She'd fallen in love with a man she could never have. Her sobs echoed around her, like her dashed dreams, crushed hopes and broken heart.

  * * *

  Much later, Haley thought to check the pager, which had been ominously silent.

  Nothing. She shouldn't have been so surprised, but she was. The service had been disconnected. There would be no more messages.

  She was completely alone.

  * * *

  Cam pushed the papers littering his desk away and shoved ten fingers into his hair. Haley was going to leave, if he didn't stop her. He'd call the police and turn her in before he let that happen. But what would that do to her—that final betrayal?

  Without stopping to think about the wisdom of it, he pulled out her mother's phone number and dialed it.

  An English guy answered. He turned out to be the butler, giving Cam the third degree. By the time Mrs. Whitfield came on the line, Cam had started to regret the call.

  "Mrs. Whitfield," he said in his most charming Southern voice. "I'm a friend of your daughter's and—"

  "Haley?"

  Well, who the hell did she think? "Yes, Haley. I know you haven't seen her lately, but she could really use your support right now—"

  The woman laughed, long and coldly. "I paid for her education, which was more than most would have done. I'll not give her another penny."

  "But—"

  "Tell her to capitalize on her brains. For whatever they're worth."

  Something deep inside Cam chilled when he pictured Haley as a little girl, with this icy woman for a mother. No wonder she felt she could rely on no one but herself.

  "I'm sorry," Mrs. Whitfield said. "I have another call."

  She wasn't sorry at all, except for the fifteen seconds she'd wasted. But he had to try one last time. "Your daughter is in trouble
. Aren't you in the least bit concerned? Or even curious?"

  "Frankly, no," she replied. "I've tried to make my mark in that woman's life, tried to show her what was important, but she never listened. Haley has made a lifelong habit of living her life as she saw fit. She'll continue to do so, with or without me."

  Unbelievable, Cam thought, his hand shaking as he hung up the phone. Absolutely unbelievable. Her mother didn't care. How different from his own mother, who before she'd died of cancer five years ago, had butted into all her sons' lives night and day, all out of love.

  So much about Haley made more sense now. The way she hesitated to lean on anyone, her stubborn insistence on doing everything for herself, her incredibly low self-esteem. His hand slammed down on his desk as anger vibrated through him.

  All he wanted was to show her how life could be, show her patience, kindness … love. And all she wanted to do was fight those very things as hard as she could. Understanding her motivation didn't help.

  He hoped to God she managed to stay out of his way until he could rein in his feelings for her. If not, he'd kiss her again, or humiliate himself and beg her to feel a fraction of what he felt for her. He'd chase her away, and send her into the unknown danger she feared so.

  A small noise had him looking up. The subject of his thoughts stood in his doorway, watching him with wary, vulnerable eyes. Damn it, she looked beautiful. And he wasn't close to being prepared to face her. Not yet.

  "I'm busy," he said evenly, tapping his pencil against a file.

  "I'm … sorry. I just wanted to talk to you."

  He tossed his pencil aside before raising his reluctant gaze to hers. She wasn't going to make this easy for him, but he'd face it. If only to keep her here. "I thought you were all talked out."

  "I thought so, too." She moved into the room, bringing the light, sweet scent that was so uniquely her. She'd changed into a pretty floral dress that he remembered as Nellie's, but he'd never remembered it being so … alluring. It swept to her ankles, its fitted bodice emphasizing her thinness. She'd lost weight, he realized with a pang of alarm. It wouldn't be good for her health. If only… Well, there were a thousand if-onlys.

  "It's going to rain," she said inanely, her voice that throaty whisper that always brought visions of hot, lusty sex to mind.

  Which added frustration to his growing bad temper. "Yes. And as I doubt you've come to ask me to dance in it, you might as well spill it." He would absolutely not plead with her to give him what he wanted. Her twiddling fingers spoke of her own nervousness, but he couldn't cater to her feelings now. He had his own to protect.

  She sank into the chair in front of his desk. "I came to ask you to not be mad at me."

  The fight drained out of him in one sweep at the urgent, almost-desperate need on her face.

  How was he supposed to remain distant when all he wanted to do was wrap himself around her, comfort and protect her? As he rose and went closer, the signs were there for him to see and agonize over. She'd been crying, and as she lifted drenched eyes to his, he could see the tension, the pain blazing in them.

  He squatted before her, tried to take her hands in his, but she gripped his desk so tightly, he couldn't pry them off without hurting her. "Haley," he murmured, guilt racking him. Selfish, he berated himself. He'd been so selfish, thinking only of himself. "Come on, darlin'," he urged, stroking her hands until she loosened her grip. He turned her toward him, bringing her hands up to his lips. "I'm not mad at you."

  Her eyes closed, her voice filled with exhaustion. "Oh, please. Not you, too, Cam. Don't you start twisting the truth."

  "All right." He couldn't contain his reluctant smile at her self-demoralizing tone. "I was mad. I was also acting selfishly. Come on." He stood, still holding her hands. "I'll walk you back to your house. You should sleep. It'll probably help the headache."

  "How did you know?"

  "I know you better than you think. Or at least, better than you want to admit." He tugged her gently to her feet, giving in to the impulse to pull her close.

  He slid his hands up, cupped her jaw and brought his face closer to hers. God, he could drown in those eyes. "Haley, I know I agreed to walk away, to be just friends." His fingers sank into her lovely, silky hair. "But I don't want to anymore."

  "Cam—"

  He didn't want to hear it so he covered her mouth with his. Under his fingers, her muscles went lax, even as her pulse raced. Slow and soft, he reminded himself, though his body urged him to hurry and possess. The change in her—the gradual, hesitant response—was so irresistibly sweet, he pulled back just to look at her.

  Tears streamed down her face. Making a sound of dismay, he ran a finger over her wet cheek.

  "I can't do this, Cam." She backed up, shaking her head, touching her fingers to the lips he'd just kissed. "I can't. I won't hurt you." And she turned, stumbling toward his door.

  "Wait."

  She didn't, and as she yanked the door open, he tripped over the chair she'd pushed in his way. "Dammit, wait." Shoving the chair aside, he moved, only to stop short again in the middle of the room when she paused to look at him. One more step on his part and he knew she'd bolt. He lifted his hands in a silent plea, hoping he'd say the right thing. "I believe in you."

  She gripped the door. "I'm not a good bet."

  "Why? Because your mother says so? She's a joke, Haley. Don't let her influence your life."

  "My mother?" She gaped in disbelief. "You— You talked to her?"

  He nodded reluctantly, and her eyes widened. He said quickly, "I called her, thinking she could help you—"

  "You what? How could you? Never mind, don't answer that." She stiffened. "Just do me one favor—stay the hell out of my life!"

  He stiffened, too. "As long as you stay here."

  "Are you going to hold me prisoner, Cameron?" she asked softly.

  "If that's what it takes to keep you safe, you bet," he replied grimly.

  Without another word, she left the office.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  « ^ »

  Cam watched Haley go. He'd have to follow her, he thought wearily. If only to make sure she didn't try to leave the ranch, which he simply couldn't allow. He hadn't realized how late it had gotten. The house, as he moved through it, seemed dark and empty. The silence assured him that both his brothers and Nellie slept. But just in case, he didn't flip on any lights. He didn't feel like answering questions from a well-meaning but pesky sister-in-law.

  Which was exactly why he tripped over a soft, warm bundle in the kitchen and fell flat on his face. Before he could let out a curse, Max was yipping loudly and licking his face all over.

  "Shh!" Grappling in the dark with the wriggling mass of excited puppy, Cam couldn't get a good grip. "Come on, boy, calm down." He couldn't even get up with the excited dog jumping all over him. "Max, if you don't put a cork in it, I swear I'll wrap that tongue around your scrawny little neck."

  Undaunted by a threat spoken in the kind voice he'd grown to love, Max jumped on Cam's chest and continued to both bark and lick whatever skin he could reach—which was plenty.

  Finally, drenched in puppy slobber, Cam managed to grab hold of the puppy and sit up. "It's all right now, boy," he whispered, feeling Max quiver. "I probably scared you as much as you startled me." He stroked the dog, thankful when the high-pitched barking stopped. "Did I hurt you when I stepped on you?"

  He got another kiss for his question and found himself able to laugh despite the ache in his chest. "Up for a walk?" That proved to be a silly question, and one that started the dog hopelessly wriggling with happiness. "Okay, two rules. One, no more barking. Two, no peeing on me. Got it?" Even in the dark, he had no trouble detecting Max's eagerness. "Let's go find Haley."

  At the name, Max perked up even more, if that was possible. The night was cold, dark and bleak. It matched Cam's spirits. Max didn't notice. He ran from tree to tree, leaving his mark, making happy little sounds in his throat that almost h
ad Cam wishing for the carefree, easy life of a dog.

  Haley's cottage looked deserted, but he knocked, convinced she'd gone straight to bed. Not surprised when she didn't respond, he knocked again. "Come on, Haley," he called out. "I just want to make sure you're all right. Open up."

  After two more minutes, he decided the hell with being polite. "Haley?" Max pushed ahead of him, whining softly. "It's just me."

  No sound, no light. Moving quickly now, goaded by fear. Cam stepped from the main room into the small hallway. The bedroom door was closed, but that, too, opened with just a push. She'd left the shutters wide-open so what little light the stars provided spilled into the room.

  At first he thought she was in bed, but as he sat on the edge and flipped on the lamp, he realized his mistake quickly enough. It seemed the housekeeper didn't bother with making her own bed. The empty pile of blankets and tangled sheets only looked like a body.

  Haley hadn't come back.

  "Damn." He looked at Max, who had his nose deep in the trash by his feet. A bright yellow legal pad in it caught his attention.

  It looked like a ledger, and it was filled with writing he now knew to be Haley's. He picked it up and brought it closer to the lamp. Haley's journal.

  His first reaction was to put it down. He could still remember the diary he'd started in the back of his math notebook. He'd been thirteen and in lust with Sally Michaels. Jason had found the notes, copied them, and sold them to his classmates for a dime each. It had taken all eighth grade to get over that humiliation. And on top of it all, Sally had dumped him.

  No, he couldn't read the journal. But still, he hesitated, holding it, staring at the writing. Here at last was a chance to maybe find out the truth about the woman he wanted in his life. The pad was flipped open to a page with writing halfway down. He stared at it, warring with himself and his scruples.

  Then his name stuck out from the writing.

  She'd written about him. Max looked at him, tilting his head, obviously wondering what the big deal was. It was a weak excuse, but simple curiosity won, and Cam scanned the page.